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<title>Cube Escape: Case 23; Dale Vandermeer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Case by The_narwhals_awaken</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786989">Cube Escape: Case 23; Dale Vandermeer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Case</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_narwhals_awaken/pseuds/The_narwhals_awaken'>The_narwhals_awaken</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rusty Lake: Perspective [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Lake | Cube Escape (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Beware corrupted souls, Game: Cube Escape: Case 23, Remember kiddos, This is Rusty Lake we're talking about</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:54:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26786989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_narwhals_awaken/pseuds/The_narwhals_awaken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When this all started, Detective Dale Vandermeer thought that this would be an ordinary murder case.  How wrong he was.  Oh, how wrong he was.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rusty Lake: Perspective [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Fall 1971- The Murder Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Detective Dale Vandermeer stood in the room.  This was one of the strangest cases he’d ever been assigned to in his long career as a homicide detective.  The woman was dead, sprawled on her front with a trail of blood leading out of the next room, where she presumably was murdered.  He leaned over, trying to see what exactly the cause of death was, and noticed a piece of paper stuck under her dress.  Carefully, making sure his gloved hands did not disturb any other evidence, he unzipped the back and pulled out the paper.  It showed a cube, with red markings on the top, and the roman numeral I.  Since Forensics had come and gone, he carefully moved her hair away from her face to try and see where the blood was coming from.  Her mouth opened, and a beetle crawled out.  Odd, certainly, especially since the body seemed quite fresh.  The beetle scurried away as her mouth closed.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dale stood, intending to go to the next room, but the doorway faded away before his eyes as he approached.  He ignored the shiver running up his spine, telling him to get out, ignore the case, and get as far away as possible.  He turned once, opening the curtains to check on the police outside, with their sirens flashing.  The air outside seemed oddly grey.  He turned again, looking at a couch, a magnet board, a picture, and an end table with a phone on it.  Odd, considering he could have sworn there was a phone in the room that had disappeared- but a question for later.  He looked under the couch cushions, finding another piece of paper- a palm, holding what looked like a flame, with a roman numeral II in the corner.  Dale noticed the beetle hiding behind the couch and attempted to catch it, but it scuttled away.  He leaned in at the wall, and noticed the label on the picture of the parrot was torn.  He pulled it off, then turned to the final wall.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a desk with drawers and an iron on it, and a bookcase.  Dale took the cactus tag off of the cactus on top of the bookcase and the title card from the painting.  Then he noticed the matryoshka dolls, undoing each of them until they were lined up, the tops floating in the air.  The last one held a rose, which he moved to the right doll.  The top lowered, then rose, the flower replaced by a fish skeleton.  It moved to the mock fishy one, where it was replaced by blood.  The blood went to the one with the knife, then turned into an egg, which went into the bird.  The egg turned into a key, and the dolls piled back to normal.  The key unlocked one of the cabinets under the bookcase, revealing a jar of flies.  Dale turned to the desk, where a fishbowl sat.  First the fly drifted over to the shell, where a finger pushed out and poked it to go into the fish, which shrank and turned into a key.  This case was getting weirder and weirder by the minute, but Dale wasn’t done poking around yet.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fish key unlocked the third drawer, revealing a folder.  This, too, had a tear, which Dale pocketed.  Inside the folder was a painting.  Dale shut the folder, turning back to the table.  There was a crossword, and he used the words and phrases he’d taken to solve it, pocketing the clue.  However, the phone number to call was partly blacked out.  He pocketed the cigar from the ashtray.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dale turned back to the bookshelf, poking at the books.  If he followed the pattern, then the books floated.  Once all the books had risen, the shelf followed, revealing a handle, showing four dials with images, marked by roman numerals.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dale suddenly remembered the beetle, which went wild, running all over the room, before running onto the desk.  Dale smashed it with the iron, pocketing the revealed key.  This was definitely not right, but if all the solutions were going to follow him, then he wasn’t complaining.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned to the magnet board, noticing the notes already up: the final clue to the puzzle given, and the poster for Rusty Lake Mental Health Institution.  Since the victim had been having issues recently, that seemed right, as well as a place to investigate further.   As he thought that, he felt something click faintly, but was unable to place it.  It was like a set of train tracks, pushing his future onto a new path.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dale used the cigar to burn holes in the painting, revealing the signs he was to use in the puzzle.  The puzzle slid down, revealing a six digit number.  Lacking any better options, he dialed the number.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The voice on the phone was staticy and corrupted, informing him that his place was already taken.  Was this where the woman had gone before she was murdered?  His vision went black and fuzzy for a few seconds, moths flickering like glowing lights, and when his sight came back, the room was shaking.  He turned, looking to see what had happened.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The murdered woman was hanging upside down on the wall, and her eyes were blackened.  Her mouth opened and her eyes shut as a moth flew out, and her arms extended from her side to form a T as she rose towards the ceiling, moths continuing to fly out.  Dale looked up to the ceiling, full of moths, which collected into four numbers.  He put the numbers into the safe in the corner.  Opening the door, he found a folder marked ‘Evidence, Rusty Lake Archive’.  Opening the folder, he found pictures, but he could only catch a glimpse before everything started shaking and the world turned black.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Summer 1972- The Investigation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's been months, and Dale hasn't had a week go by without some form of omen or odd happenstance.  Crows flocking to him, torn papers mending and holding flat, numbers written in whatever liquid was around... </p><p>There was a reason the latest office betting pool was on when he'd a) die or b) get sucked into a quest.  </p><p>Dale just wanted some coffee and to solve this murder.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dale sat in his office.  The door was locked, and nobody would be bothering him.  His office seemed less familiar than it was, but he pushed those thoughts aside.  It was just because he was tired and had been out a lot recently.  The mirror above the sink glinted accusingly, in a way he was sure it hadn’t before.  The screen, dust-free, mocked his lies.  The old television buzzed, crackling faintly with static before settling down again, and the quiet rustle of criminals in another room didn’t bother him.  He was tired- probably a good idea to make coffee.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cleaners had been through recently and he dug through the table cabinet and his file cabinets to find the coffee and filter, also picking up a razor and a map.  Glancing through the doors- Doris would sometimes leave small treats- he found a map, numbers on paper, and a screwdriver.  Gosh, he was really out of it if he’d forgotten where he’d put his own stuff.  Turning slightly, he grabbed the empty pot and put the filter and beans in the coffee maker.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning to get to the sink, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.  He looked really tired.  That coffee would be much appreciated.  Taking the razor, he carefully shaved off the beard and mustache he’d grown.  While it was fine while he was out looking, he really preferred to be clean-shaven.  He tried to rinse the cut hair down the sink, but it clogged the drain.  Dale turned off the water and poked at it, only to find that it’d turned into a baby bird.  A crow, if he was right.  He tilted his head back and sighed.  Crows had been following him lately, and it had become a joke around the other detectives that he was cursed.  He filled the coffee pot with water and turned back to make the bean juice so he could focus.  As he glanced up, an idea hit him.  Taking the screwdriver, he opened the vent cover.  There was a black cat there, staring at him.  Dale didn’t know what to do.  It stared at him.  He stared at it.  Eventually, he gave it the young crow.  Cruel, but he really couldn’t take care of it.  The cat ate the bird, then its eyes turned black.  Par for the course in terms of ominous omens, really.  Then its eyes turned back to normal and Dale remembered his coffee.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dale poured the water into the machine and turned it on, letting the caffeinated beverage brew so he could have some.  Once the pot was full, he filled the cup on his desk.  Draining it, he glanced at the remains.  A number was scrawled in the dregs.  Sighing, he turned to his old television and input the numbers.  It’d been so long, he’d nearly forgotten what life was like without the occasional omen, directing him, keeping the case open and him on the case.  He collected the piece of paper from behind the television.  It showed the man, Robert Hall, sitting in his chair.  Suddenly, his head lifted, and it was black and staticy, with glowing white eyes.  Quickly, Dale turned to the window.  The cop watching him, Chesterton, had hung himself.  Hall himself was gone.  Dale was just about to leave when a shadowy figure appeared, making the room’s light turn red.  It put a hand up to the glass, cracking it, then disappeared, leaving a black cube in its place and turning the light back to normal.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind the projector, Dale found another piece of paper.  It finished the scraps that were torn up.  Setting them on the wall, they connected perfectly- one of the things he’d just gotten used to.  Carefully, he typed the underlined words into his typewriter, slightly startled by how the ink disappeared and became what he typed.  He noted the numbers, but did not immediately plug them in because he was going to work out the map.  Throwing it up on the screen, he got to work.  He copied the illustration from the evidence diagram onto the screen, then swapped it out for the numbers.  He noted down the code, then turned to the television. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First, he input the numbers from the diagram, revealing an image of the murdered woman.  He’d looked up her name- Laura Vanderboom.  Laura lifted her hand, and as it passed out of frame, a hand reached out of the top of the television.  Dale put the egg in, and traded it for the white cube.  Then he put in the numbers from the typewriter.  Two squares appeared over an image of a lake.  He put in the cubes.  A beam of light appeared out of the top of the television.  It hit the center of the ceiling fan, and the fan began to spin.  As it spun, the ceiling was replaced with stars.  The room spun faintly, and Dale passed out.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You know the drill!  Leave a comment, tell me what you like.  The rest should be up soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Summer 1972- The Chapel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This odd chapel wasn't where Dale expected to wake up, but with the turns his life had been taking, he silently resolved just to roll with it.  How bad could it get?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dale woke up in front of a stone wall.  There was an arch, blocked off, with an empty hole in the middle.  There were unlit torches on each side and arrows above the arch.  He shook his head and turned, investigating the environment.  Turning to the right, he saw a set of twelve puzzle doors.  Behind him was a stained glass window and three images on a form of altar.  The picture on the left was divided into sections, which he rotated to reveal a picture of two men being presented with a white cube by a witch.  The picture on the right was a slider puzzle, revealing an image of a mob in front of a black cube.  The picture in the middle was the Lady of the Lake, familiar from the investigation ages ago.  Dale reached out and took the cube, noticing as he did that the eyes of the painting followed the cube as he reached out and took it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To the left of the stone wall was a statue with sliding discs making up its head and an open mouth.  Dale moved the discs, collecting an eyeball- at this point, he was only surprised by its texture- somehow simultaneously slimy and wet, and dry and hard.  Finally, he collected the bird’s eye and the shell, noting the extra numbers for later.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dale moved back to the puzzle boxes, opening the first one to reveal a key.  The key unlocked the second one, revealing a bird skull.  Giving the skull the eye revealed another key.  The third door was unlocked, revealing sliders.  He didn’t have the heart for the fourth door.  Moving to the second section, one door opened with the shell, one opened when the wires were aligned, and one opened to the code from the statue.  The wire door revealed a piece of painting, the shell door revealed an oilcan, and the number door revealed another piece of painting.  The fourth door had four slots, but Dale only had two pieces of painting, so he let it be.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Standing and stretching out the kinks in his back- he was getting too old to stay hunched over for that long- he moved to the top four doors.  One had rotating discs, which revealed another painting quarter.  One moved discs from in front of a door, revealing a pot of ink.  One needed a key to unlock, revealing a fetus in a jar.  Dale stared, before pouring the ink into the jar.  The ink filled the fluid, then receded to reveal a heart.  Dale was done, anything might as well happen, next it might start raining blood or something.  He took the heart.  Turning back to the first set of doors, he moved the dials middle, high, low, then turned back to the door with the patterned line.  It opened, revealing another piece of the painting.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dale turned back to the last door, fitting the painting pieces together.  It reminded him of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.  The door opened, giving him a lit candle.  How the candle was lit inside an airtight box, he didn’t know, but he stuck to his previous stance of not caring.  He turned back to the stone wall and put the cube in the slot, watching as the stone cracked and fell out.  He looked out over the lake, seeing a man in a boat.  Using the candle, he lit the torches, then burned them in the pattern given by the arrows.  How this was his life, he wasn’t sure.  He only knew that he’d gone too far to back out now.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boat pulled in front of the empty hole, revealing the boatman was an old man with a trenchcoat, a blue tie, and a mouth sewn shut.  His eyes were black and he looked like someone had sewn the mouth shut to keep something inside.  Dale took his scissors and cut the thread.  The holes looked almost like stubble.  The old man’s hat lifted off, revealing the mark of a cube on his forehead.  Then his mouth opened.  At first, Dale thought he only had two teeth.  Then as his mouth opened wider, far beyond the limits of a human mouth, he realized something was emerging.  Eventually, the man’s head was replaced with that of a crow.  Mr. Crow looked at him, smiling as much as a crow could, and Dale stepped into the boat.  Mr. Crow pushed off, and they were on their way.   </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Summer 1972- The Cabin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dale disembarked from the boat.  The trip had blinked past.  He had the vague feeling that the old crow had done or said something, but since he couldn't remember, he pushed it aside for now.  He had a task to complete.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The cabin was old, a faded green cabinet one of the only things in good repair.  Even the walls were falling apart.  Poking through the cabinet, Dale found cogs.  Three panels peeled away and fell to the floor- although one got stuck about halfway.  One had a pipe with a lever, and the other needed some work.  Quickly, Dale patched up the pipes so that the liquid could flow.  He didn’t know why he was rushing, but the urgency was immediate and dire.  Another panel fell, revealing the space for cogs to go and a second green cabinet.  Opening the doors, he found the last few cogs and quickly put them into place.  Once they were in place, he reached into the box marked, ‘Harvey’ and pulled out a box of matches.   Turning to the door, he saw some animal- a deer?  A horse?- with its head cut off.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Dale turned and used the crowbar to unstick the stuck panel.  As the last board fell, the world flashed red around the edges and a staticy wind began to howl.  Shaking, Dale turned to see a shadowy figure with antlers standing in the open doorway of the cabin.  He whirled, lighting a match with unsteady fingers and quickly summoning the elevator.  As it descended, he saw the shadowy figure appear in front of the grate.  The red continued to flash and pulse.  It only faded once Dale hit the lake.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An empty void, filled with small cubes containing memories.  His memories.  Dale settled in.  It looked to be a long ride.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And there we have it, folks!  Another Cube Escape story complete.  Let me know what you think!</p><p>Yes, it's a short chapter- not that much of a challenge to complete!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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